


Egotistical Anthology

by Pratzelwurm, starrynightflower



Series: Ego Tripping [2]
Category: Devilman (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 90's, Alternate Universe - College / University, Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Manga / OVA characterization, More tags to be added, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 15:03:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15003437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pratzelwurm/pseuds/Pratzelwurm, https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrynightflower/pseuds/starrynightflower
Summary: A collection of oneshots and side stories canonical to the Ego Tripping AU. Stories may contain spoilers up to the current posted chapter of the main fic, so it's best to be caught up before you read them!Tags / categories / etc. will be added as they apply, but as usual keeping them vague to avoid spoilers and tag spam.





	Egotistical Anthology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryou decides to get some stress relief and then feels really bad about it afterwards.
> 
> Takes place between Chapter 2 and Chapter 3.
> 
> Additional Tags: Masturbation, Sexual fantasies, Sharing clothes, Clothing kink, Sensory play, Self deprecation (not in a sexy way)

Ryou presses his shoulder against the shower wall and lets the hot water run down his back. He's already washed his hair and body, but he's just not quite ready to go out and face the world again. It's probably not the smartest move, staying in such a vulnerable position when another demon could show up at any minute and kill him where he stands, but frankly, he's too tired to care at this point.

It's been several days since his father's suicide, and he's been devoting nearly all of his time to researching demons – and killing the few (thankfully weak) ones that have made it up to his house. He hasn't been sleeping, has stopped going to class, and has barely been remembering to eat. Needless to say, he's a little stressed out.

Not for the first time, he thinks about calling Akira, but again he hesitates.

There's a sabbath coming up in a little over a week. October 9th. Ryou counts himself lucky that he found one so soon and not too far away, but he really doesn't want to go alone, and he knows that someone like Akira has a much higher chance of success than he does. Still, he doesn't want to endanger him; he saw what fusing had done to his father, and fears the same happening to Akira. Ryou doesn't know what he'd do if it came to that.

He's lost track of how long he's been in the shower, but he realizes now that the hot water is becoming lukewarm, so he begrudgingly shuts off the faucet before it turns cold. He grabs a clean towel off of the rack and shuffles it through his hair before drying off the rest of him and tossing the towel onto the floor.

He braces his hands against the counter and makes eye contact with his reflection, noting the prominent darkness under his eyes. His hair is now sticking up every direction, and he could probably use a shave – not like he really grows a lot of facial hair anyways, but he hasn't had the time or energy to devote to anything beyond basic hygiene. He's got so much more work he has to do before it's too late…

He drags a comb through his hair, just enough to keep it from tangling, then, without bothering to reclothe, exits into his bedroom and flops down face-first onto his bed. He's still kind of damp, but whatever he can change his sheets later if it's a problem. He figures he should probably get dressed, though; if another demon shows up to attack him he at least wants to die with some dignity.

Ryou pushes himself up on his elbows and looks disdainfully at the mound of clothing that has accumulated on his floor. He hasn't really been keeping up with his laundry, and his previously separated piles of clothing seem to have gotten mixed together, and he can no longer remember for certain which ones are actually clean. Sighing, he drags himself to the edge of his bed and leans down to dig through them, hoping he can figure it out.

He picks up article after article to evaluate them, but everything he pulls he's pretty sure hasn't been washed yet, so one by one they get flung to the side, further blending the piles. He picks up another shirt and prepares to dismiss it as well, but suddenly pauses.

This isn't his shirt.

This is _Akira's_ shirt.

He must have left it here when he'd slept over, after they'd spent all evening hanging out in the woods, and somehow it'd gotten mixed in with Ryou's clothing.

Ryou's heart rate increases slightly. Before he realizes what he's doing, he brings the shirt up to his face and inhales. It definitely _smells_ like Akira. Ryou doesn't know how to feel about the fact he can recognize Akira by scent alone, but he's is a little preoccupied with his nagging, impulsive thoughts.

He wants to put it on.

But he shouldn't. That's weird.

He puts it on anyways.

Ryou might have been exhausted before, but now he feels a rush of adrenaline building in his chest. He can't tell if it's excitement or anxiety. Or both. Either way, the rational part of him is kind of irritated that he's reacting this way to a fucking _shirt_.

It's a little big on him, but he doesn't mind because he tends to wear loose clothing anyways. Though, thinking about Akira being larger than he is doesn't really help him be any more composed about the situation. The blood is rising to his face, and there's a familiar tingling sensation traveling down to his crotch.

Ryou breathes in and out, slowly, while he battles with his emotions. Regardless of the fact that this feels somewhat non-consensual, he's honestly kind of put off that he'd be turned on by something so… trivial. He tentatively presses the shirt collar against his face while he reaches down to tease himself with his other hand.

This is wrong. This is completely and utterly wrong and Ryou feels horrible but he can't help himself. Considering everything he's been through, he can at least let himself have this, right?

He closes his eyes, inhaling Akira's scent again as he runs his finger tips along his shaft, wrapping them around it as his dick hardens in his hand. It's oddly comforting, in a way. Almost like Akira is actually here, holding him, pressing his body against Ryou's. Ryou matches his strokes with his breathing — slow and deliberate — and imagines that it's Akira touching him like this.

Not that that will ever happen, but he's allowed to fantasize, damn it.

Ryou lays back onto his bed and quickens his pace. It's not taking much to get him going, and a sliver of precum is already running down the head of his dick, but… it's not enough. He lets go of the shirt and slides that hand around to the other side of him, shivering as he runs his index finger along the stretch of skin behind his balls, dragging it upwards to toy with his entrance. Yes, _this_ is what he wants right now.

He sits up again, a bit hazy from arousal, and scoots over to his nightstand. In the time it takes him to slide open the top drawer and retrieve his bottle of lube, the voice his brain reminds him that he shouldn't be doing this, and that it's creepy and wrong to get off to his best friend, especially while wearing his clothes without his knowledge.

 _Fuck it_ , he thinks decisively.

Ryou sits back on his knees, squeezing some of the lube out onto his fingers, then crouches down with his head against his pillow and his ass in the air, causing the shirt to roll up and expose his lower back. This position is kind of embarrassing, but he reminds himself that he's alone and he can be as self-indulgent as he wants. No one will ever know about this. With that in mind, he reaches behind and begins slowly inserting his index finger.

Years of pleasuring himself like this has made his hole pretty receptive to this kind of attention, so between that and the lube, his finger slides in easily. His breath hitches and releases with a shudder as he pushes in a second finger and presses down against his inner walls. With his free hand, he presses the fabric of the shirt against his face again and breathes deeply as works his fingers in and out.

He thinks again about Akira, because, in some deluded way, Ryou feels like he could be doing this for him, to prepare himself for his cock. He imagines how full he would feel with something that can reach much deeper than his fingers can. Akira's hands gripping onto his waist as he thrusts inside him from behind, Ryou's name on his lips…

Ryou moans softly into the shirt. He is painfully hard at this point, but giving his dick attention would require not fingering himself or letting go of the shirt, and he's reluctant to do either of those. Not to mention that the longer he puts off his release, the more satisfying it will be, and he wants to drag this out as much as he can because he doesn't know when he'll get a chance to do it again, especially not with this particular stimulus available.

Honestly, it wouldn't even have to be his dick; Ryou would take anything Akira was willing to give to him. He could use his fingers, his tongue… hell, Ryou would fuck _him_ if that's what Akira wanted. Anal, oral, giving, receiving, whatever; Ryou just wants something, anything, any kind of attention, positive or negative. Akira could take him dry and he would be grateful for it.

He forces in a third finger and thrusts harshly into himself, moaning louder as his hips buck forward involuntarily. He's leaking precum all over his sheets, and he can feel how close he is to the edge. It's almost too much to handle.

Reluctantly, he pulls his fingers out, choosing to lose that rather than this perceived connection to Akira. Rolling over onto his back to get a better angle, he pumps his cock again, strained, high-pitched noises escaping his throat with every movement. Through his drunk arousal, he gets a sort of twisted idea, and pulls the shirt down over his dick, using both hands to stroke himself through the fabric.

"A… Akira!" he cries out, back arching as he cums hard and coats the inside of the shirt, eyes watering with relief. He lies back into his pillow, unable really form a cohesive thought, and feels the tension release from his body. For a short time, he feels relaxed.

He remains still for a few moments as his heart rate and breathing return to normal, and then, as his concious comes back into focus, it suddenly dawns on him what he just did.

He bolts upright and stares in horror at the sticky mess pooling into his lap. A cold sweat builds on the back of his neck as a wave of guilt washes over him, mingling all too well with his rising anxiety.

He feels like absolute shit. If Akira knew that he'd done such a disgusting thing he'd never want to speak to him again, and yet here Ryou is, masturbating to the mere thought of him. He's never felt so gross and undeserving in his life, and now real tears are threatening to spill from him.

He's not sure if he can possibly sink any lower than this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hida's comments: Local gay does gay and stupit shit
> 
> Salem's comments: I wrote this one! Did someone call for some self-indulgent hornie fic? Here's the answer to what Ryou did with that shirt... Also, not all of these will be porn, just this one happens to be lol


End file.
